


Leaving home to go home

by Lazy_Laziel



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: 4x15, F/F, Gen, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy_Laziel/pseuds/Lazy_Laziel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After they leave H.G. behind, Pete worries about his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaving home to go home

When they passed the thirty minute mark and the car was still silent he couldn’t decide if he was surprised or not. He’d wanted to say something, anything, since they took off but in a sudden burst of restraint he’s managed to keep everything on the tip of his tongue. Which is hard, and he doesn’t like it, but at least the quiet doesn’t taste as bad as what he had to say before they left.

There every word had tasted rubbery, like drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth, but you had to have your partners back even when you thought everything about the situation, and your partners decisions about said situation, was fucked up.

It had only taken one look as his partner. Well, three, before he realized what was going to happen. No words, but her eyes as they stood by the car and the white knuckled fist he had seen earlier, only for a split second, was telling enough. So he’d taken the bull by the horns and wished their former colleague a happy future. Seemingly prayed for it even. All the while ignoring the tasted that started to spread in his mouth.

Love is a painful thing, especially for someone from the Secret Service. It had taken some time, and more than one sleepless night going over his own relationships, before he had realized how truly screwed they were. To join the Service you didn’t just need brains, there was a psychological aspect that was so often overlooked by the public. Before the Service they all had protective instincts. After joining they were trained to literary take a bullet for the one they were protecting. No if’s ands or buts about it. If the one they protected was threatened they stepped in front of it, no matter the damage to themselves or the dislike for the protectee.

For them, it was simple to die so a stranger could live. Imagine how easy it was to sacrifice themselves for someone they loved.

When they passed the 47 minute mark he heard the first change in her breathing. A miniscule hitch that would have gone unnoticed if he hadn’t been waiting for it.

He glanced over and she was still looking out the window, her body turned toward the door half curled up. To anyone else she probably just looked tired, but he could read the perfect stillness of her shoulder like those two could read a book. Tired was just a fraction of what she felt. But he turned his eyes back towards the road. Not yet.

Those two. He shook his head softly. It really was something out of Shakespeare. Maybe not the Warehouse version, but pretty close at times. Star crossed lovers. He didn’t have a perfect grasp of the term, but it probably fit what they had. Even when they first met he had felt something. Besides the fact that he had been both shot down and nearly shot. They had probably fallen in love right there, with him as the innocent bystander. Too bad their brains failed to realize what the souls knew right away. And the brains had been making a mess of things ever since, being so damn slow in catching up.

It took another couple of minutes but a rest stop, an empty rest stop, finally appeared and with one final look at his partner he turned in and shut of the engine.

Again he wanted to say something. Preferably something amusing that would make her laugh. And she probably would, possibly giving his shoulder a punch for good measure and they would be all right. He would start the car, they’d drive away, get back to work and things would be like before they got the call.

So he kept quiet.

He didn’t quite look at her as they sat quiet in the dark. He just reached across and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. It twitched, but she didn’t pull away.  So they sat there, the twitching under his hands becoming worse and worse, until he could match them up to the stifled breaths that got louder and louder. A gentle squeeze of her shoulder caused her to finally look through her tresses at him and the understanding look on his face was enough.

With a final keening sob she closed her eyes and started to cry.

He reached out and hugged her tightly, feeling her burrowing into his neck seeking comfort from her brother in everything but blood. Here she finally let it go, in the darkness with no one else around. The betrayal she felt, even if there really hadn’t been anything yet to really betray. Anger at herself, at Helena, even at Pete who had done what she hoped he would do. The drained joy that if this is what made Helena happy she would let her have it in a heartbeat, even if that heart tore in two as she did so. And above it all, inside it all was pain.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered into her hair as she continued to cry softly, his own tears starting to fall. “It’ll be all right.” Weak words at the moment, but true. Not now, probably not even in the near future. But true.

Myka’s face had turned to the floor as they drove away while he had kept an eye on H.G. in the rearview mirror. Even at a distance you could see the sadness as they drove away. It wasn’t the face of someone happy were they were. It was the face of someone content, seeing the happiness they had denied themselves setting sail. And while H.G. probably wouldn’t know it herself for a while, it was also the face of someone who didn’t want to be content anymore. It was someone who wanted to be happy.


End file.
